


Rivers of Forever

by GreyTabbyCat



Category: Forever (TV), Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Crossover, Gen, What-If, a bit of Henry's past, and a bit of Nightingale's past, mentions of canon temporary character death, overlapping at one point, spoilers for Nightingale aging in general, spoilers for Nightingale's age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5212346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyTabbyCat/pseuds/GreyTabbyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Henry Morgan and Thomas Nightingale had met about 70 years ago fighting in Wold War II? What if they had become friends? And what if Henry and Abe went to London and visited the Folly while there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivers of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of these two characters knowing each other. So, I also liked the idea for this story, but I have to admit actually getting it on paper was hard and I think it might show in the writing. But I hope you still enjoy this crazy ride anyway!
> 
> \---
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters! I just wanted to play with them a little. I promise to put them back where I found them when done.

Dr. Henry Morgan was swiftly walking along once-familiar streets in London. His son, Abraham, hot on his heels. Henry had come home from work one day about two weeks ago to find Abe pacing around the store waiting for him. He had barely had time to hang up his coat before Abraham had told him excitedly that he would be going to London on some business-related matters. Not having been there in quite some time he was looking forward to visit his parents’ native country again. 

Surprisingly, Henry had spontaneously seized the opportunity to go and visit the city he once called home and to ‘visit an old friend’ as he had put it. And now they were both on their way to visit exactly this friend of Henry’s. 

“How long ago did you say you last saw this friend of yours I have never heard of before?” Abe asked his father out of breath.

“Oh, about 70 years ago.” 

“Uh, Dad, you realise that’s been a hell of a long time ago, right?” Abe was getting a little concerned at this stage. His Dad might well be immortal and 70 years might not sound long to him, but had he forgotten what that meant for a normal, mortal human being? Was he slowly going crazy after all? Abe chuckled quietly to himself. Henry was the weirdest guy most people had ever met, but with a couple hundred years of practice he was far ahead of everyone. 

“Abraham!” Abe was pulled from his thoughts suddenly. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Obviously he had zoned out contemplating the state of his Dad’s mental health for too long. 

“Of course! What do you think of me? But you might just as well repeat yourself again for added benefit,” Abe said sheepishly. Henry just shook his head resignedly. 

“As I told you before,” here he gave Abe a very pointed look, “I know quite well how long ago that was. Just after the war and before we all moved to America. Ah, finally! Russell Square! There we are!” 

Henry led them both to the south side of the square and stopped in front of a big Georgian-looking building with the words ‘Scientia potestas est’ inscribed above the lintel. Abe wondered what those words meant, but he had never had a way with languages and his time trying to learn Latin once in his youth only ended in disaster. Unaware of his son’s musings, Henry proceeded to climb up the front steps to knock on the huge door. After a moment barking could be heard from the inside. 

“I just hope that’s not your friend,” Abe quipped. Henry whipped around and gave him a don’t-be-ridiculous look. He had just opened his mouth to reply when the door was opened practically noiselessly and a young woman in a very old-fashioned maid costume looked at the pair expectantly. At her feet a little dog stuck its head curiously through the small space looking at the two visitors no less expectantly – thankfully it had stopped barking and was silent now. 

“Good afternoon!” Henry greeted her charmingly. “I’m Dr. Henry Morgan and I’m here to see Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale. Does he happen to be around?” 

The woman inclined her head a bit, stepped aside and without a word motioned for Henry and Abe to enter. Then she left just as silently as she had done everything else so far. 

Henry stood in the entryway quietly. His attention only drifting away from the direction the woman had disappeared in when the little dog sniffed at his shoes and tried to jump up his legs begging to be noticed. 

Abraham on the other hand stood next to his father showing obvious amazement at his surroundings – his eyes wide and expression slack-jawed in wonder, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn’t seem to know what to look at first. So his eyes flittered around like a hummingbird. On entering the building he first noticed the grand layout with lots of stairs and floors with seemingly endless corridors. His eyes then swept over the atrium as a whole, but didn’t linger long on anything in particular. There was so much more to see and so little time. 

Abe guessed the maid or whatever else she was supposed to be would be back sooner rather than later. Finally, he noticed the large statue of some presumably both very famous and very dead guy flanked by two pillars. He would have to investigate this statue closer to get to know more about this man. 

And lastly his eyes landed on the floor of the lobby. Hadn’t he been speechless anyway he would be now for sure. The whole floor was made up of a large mosaic in Roman style. Abraham was totally floored so to speak by everything. The whole building practically screamed antique. He had clearly not anticipated something like this – such truly historic buildings were not very common over in his home country – and Henry was secretly pleased at being able to still surprise his son sometimes. 

When suddenly the little dog’s attention wavered from Henry’s shoes and legs he looked up to see the woman approaching again. Was she gliding? The little dog raced to her side and was rewarded with a soft pat on its head. After this little show of affection she beckoned for the duo to follow her. 

As silently as ever she led them up a flight of stairs, along a couple corridors, and up another flight of stairs, and along some more corridors for good measure, only stopping when both Henry and Abe were feeling sufficiently confused and quite sure they were now successfully unable to find their way back to the entrance lobby. 

She knocked on the big wooden door the small party had stopped in front of. For a fleeting moment both noticed that it was the first sound she had made in any way since their arrival. Then a male voice called for them to enter and the maid opened the door for Henry and Abe and let them proceed into the room before her.

The first thing they noticed was the sheer size of the room. It looked more like a hall than a room the average person would imagine, even with every wall covered top to bottom with bookcases made of massive dark brown wood. In the centre of the room – more like a library really – stood a big ornately carved table with several reading lamps on top and chairs all around – some overstuffed and cosy-looking, some straight-backed and probably uncomfortable to most. 

In one especially stiff-looking of the chairs sat a man who had obviously looked up from reading a book. He had grey inquisitive eyes and short brown hair. He appeared to be quite tall, had a slim build, and was impeccably well-dressed. He and Henry looked like they could be frequenting the same tailors. But the most peculiar thing about this man was – at least in Abe’s eyes – that he seemed to be in his early forties. 

When he saw who had come to visit, he looked utterly surprised. Or as surprised as any true British person would let show. This surprise gave way to sheer happiness after a fraction of a second when his face split into a huge smile that reached his eyes in record speed as well. 

“Henry!” He acknowledged, put down his reading, stood up, and came around the table. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been too long!” He stopped right in front of Henry who had extended his hand for a shake and smiled brightly too. 

“Thomas!” Henry greeted the man in return. “It’s good to see you too!” Both men shook hands with a friendly slap on each other’s backs while Abe watched the exchange curiously. He was a bit confused at the lack of emotional display after not seeing each other for 70 years. But he suspected that was probably the height of what was socially acceptable with the famous British reserve. 

After this welcome, all eyes landed on Abe who had up until now only been a silent bystander. Henry took to introducing the two.

“Thomas, this is Abraham, my…”

“Son. I should have recognized him,” He realised with a start. “But you were just a baby the last time I saw you and 70 years is a really long time,” He added, turning to Abe who just nodded in understanding. 

“And Abraham, meet Thomas Nightingale. We met during World War II somewhere in the trenches between Germany and what today is Poland.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Abe said, shaking his hand, always the well-behaved son – when he wanted to be at least. 

“It’s indeed a pleasure to meet you again too, Abraham. Fantastic to see how you have turned out.” Nightingale smiled. Then, addressing both again he asked the obvious question. “Would you like some tea?” 

Truly British, so it’s not only one of Henry’s spleens, Abe thought and nodded while Henry agreed to the offer too. 

“Molly, would you please make tea for us and bring it up here?” Nightingale turned to the woman who then left as silently as ever with the little dog hot on her heels.

While Nightingale was busy making these arrangements, Abe leaned over to Henry next to him and whispered. “Is he like you?” Abe had been curious as to the reason behind Nightingale’s lack of age since the moment he had first seen him and Henry had wondered himself how long his son would be able to keep quiet about it. He had to admit he had underestimated his son a little bit, though not by much. 

“Please take a seat, so we can try and catch up a bit. What brings you to London again?” Nightingale offered, settling back into the chair he had vacated earlier while Henry and Abe chose a chair each to his left. 

“Abraham is here on business. I’m just tagging along.”

“Oh, what do you do then?” Nightingale asked turning to Abe.

“I’m an antiques’ dealer and I was invited to attend a conference at the Antique Dealer’s Association.” 

“This sounds exciting and it is sure to be a great opportunity for you! And Henry, what is it you’re doing for a living now?” 

“I’m a medical examiner with the OCME in New York City now.” 

“Always keeping close to medicine in some way, aren’t you Henry.” 

“And he’s closely working with the police now!” Abe chimed in.

“So you’re trying to be a police officer now too?” Nightingale quipped, grinning. 

“I’m just helping the NYPD with some of their cases,” Henry tried defending himself.

“Yeah, one lovely Detective Martinez in particular,” Abe teased.

“Abraham, please!” Henry resigned himself to his fate, hoping for some sort of distraction before his son and his friend could go into detail discussing his life. 

“I’m intrigued. Tell me more about this.” 

Abe had just opened his mouth having seemingly found a like-minded person, when unfortunately – or luckily depending on the perspective – Molly chose exactly this moment to re-enter the room with a tray filled with cups, biscuits, and a steaming pot of tea. She put everything on the table and then proceeded to pour tea into each cup before leaving again. 

Sufficiently distracted, the conversation turned to more mundane things like recent British and American politics and, as always, the typical British rainy weather. 

Nightingale and Henry were just caught in a heated discussion about London rain versus New York City rain when the door was suddenly opened noisily and a young black man came in, then abruptly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the two visitors. 

“Oh, um, I’m sorry to disturb you. I’ll read up on this thing later.” And with that he was gone again as fast as he had entered. 

“Sorry, that was just Peter, my new apprentice,” Nightingale explained.

“But Thomas you said you didn’t want to take on a new apprentice!”

“I know. And I held onto my word for the past 70 years until I came across Peter one night not too long ago and recognized his abilities.” 

“Mhm, well, good for you. And also for the young man. Although, he really does need more training.” 

“I completely agree. He is still a bit wild and uncontrollable, but I’m sure he will be good at what we do eventually. He is very curious and thinks in very different ways to us old folks.” Nightingale chuckled wryly remembering some of Peter’s more recent antics, shaking his head a little at his apprentice’s actions sometimes. 

“Sorry if I butt in just like that! But what is it that you do exactly?” Abe finally burst out. He couldn’t for the life of him keep in his curiosity any longer. Henry slowly turned his head his son’s way, appalled at his rudeness, and shot him a look somewhere along the lines of How dare you be so impolite? Didn’t I raise you better than that? 

“Oh, sorry, I forgot that you don’t know anything about me. I’m a Police officer with the MET and a wizard, the last officially sanctioned English wizard actually,” Nightingale explained, luckily not sounding at all fazed by Abe’s bluntness. 

“Ok…” Abe sounded a bit speechless, even sceptic, at the proposal of sitting across from a real wizard. “Well, it’s not anymore implausible than having an immortal for a father,” he decided at last, grinning broadly. 

Henry had not been expecting anything less from his son, he knew him very well after all, yet he still looked very pleased and proud of Abe. 

“I guess…” Now it was Nightingale’s turn to sound speechless at having been accepted so easily for what he was. 

“Now that that’s done with, what’s the deal with your immortality?” Abe ploughed on at which Nightingale just raised one eyebrow in question. “Oh come on! You say that you fought in a war over 70 years ago, but don’t look a day older than 43.” 

“I thank you very much for this assessment. I’m actually over 100 years old.” Although, he had been expecting something along these lines, Abe looked at Nightingale wide-eyed. “It’s true. I was born around the turn of the last century. I even aged normally like everyone else,” with a look at Henry he added “mostly. Until one day in the 1970s, when I just stopped aging and even started aging backwards, until this stage you see today.” 

“Wow,” was all that left Abe’s mouth after listening to Nightingale’s story. “But why?”

“I have to admit, I have absolutely no clue as to the reason for my condition.” 

“Ha! You sound just like Henry! I can see why you’ve become friends,” Abe laughed, but turned serious instantly as another thought struck him. “And then you haven’t seen each other in 70 years?”

“Well, as you know, life has a tendency to just happen even when you make plans. At least we corresponded via letter more or less regularly.” Henry, who had been quietly watching the exchange between his son and his friend, chimed in again. He was also kind of impressed Abraham got so much information out of Nightingale as he wasn’t exactly the talking much kind of person. He figured it was Abraham's very own talent to get people talking. 

“Ok, I see. So, how exactly did you two meet in the war? I mean you could just have been fighting side by side, but I know my Dad and I guess there might be a more interesting story than that.” Abe pointedly looked at his father who had a knack for getting into tricky situations and everyone who was around him long enough knew that. 

“You hid the nail on the head with your assumption there,” Nightingale laughed and looked at Henry too. 

“Well, since you all ask so nicely,” Henry rolled his eyes “I’ll tell you the story anyway Abraham. We were stationed pretty close together at the front lines, but didn’t know that until one fateful night. I got shot and ultimately killed trying to save a civilian from the Nazis and ended up attacked myself. 

I woke up again in some lake nearby, saw some lights in the distance, and just tried my luck walking there hoping it to be a camp of allies. Luckily, it was the middle of the night and nobody spotted my naked self. When I came into hearing range I noticed the people in the camp spoke English and I was relieved to have at least found some friendly people. The next problem would have been to explain my state of undress and to convince them I wasn’t a threat. 

Before I could make myself known though, I saw this guy walking past with a ball of light floating before him. And I knew I had found the wizard’s squad. Rumours of their existence were going around like wildfire, but I never would have believed any of them. Now I was obviously proven wrong. 

Anyway, I thought that they’d be the most likely to believe whatever story I would be making up and went for it cautiously. I met Thomas and identified myself as a British soldier making up a story on the spot about losing my uniform. He seemed to believe me, went to find another uniform for me, and then sat me down in his tent, handed me a glass of the most vile-tasting alcohol I have ever had the misfortune to drink, and asked for the real story. Apparently, I feel differently to a wizard or something and so, after some persuasion and a couple of threats, I told him my story. And that’s how we met.” 

“Phew, Dad, do you ever tell a short story?” Abe asked which earned him another look from his father while Nightingale chuckled a little and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘too true’ under his breath. 

Just then Abe’s phone decided to ring. He picked up and after a couple of pleasantries handed the device over to Henry who looked at his son quizzically. 

“Hello?” He asked cautiously, but smiled after hearing who was on the other end of the line. “Hello Detective. Yes, it’s nice here in London, thank you. How can I be of service from across an ocean? Yes, no problem. I will be able to hear your report when Abraham and I get back to the hotel. We can be there in about one hour. Yes, you might call us back then and I’ll do my best to help you.” With that he ended the call and handed the phone back to Abe. 

His son just exchanged a knowing look with Nightingale who tried to hide his grin – unsuccessfully. 

“Well, Thomas it seems the NYPD needs my assistance with the latest case. I’m sorry we have to cut this visit short. It was very nice meeting you again, especially here in London.” Henry made to stand up and the other two followed suit. 

“Indeed, it was nice seeing you again Henry. And you too Abraham. How long will you be staying in London? If you happen to find yourselves with some time to spare, you are both welcome here again.” 

“Yes, nice meeting you. And thanks for telling me so much this afternoon,” Abe added. He sure had learned some new stuff about his Dad today. 

Everyone shook hands and said their goodbyes. Henry assured his friend he’d visit again before leaving for New York in a few days. When Henry and Abe were ready to leave, Molly and the little dog were somehow there again to lead them back through the labyrinth of hallways and show them out.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who is wondering, like Abe, what ‘Scientia potestas est’ actually means in a more modern language: It's 'Knowledge is power' in English.  
> But how will Abe find out now?


End file.
